Summertime Sadness
by Writeous
Summary: Jack is stuck on a deserted island with no way off. And he doesn't like it. Not at all. Not a songfic. Written for the SSFA Challenge.


SSFA

…

Tropic

Let's get this straight, Jack's fine with warm weather. He's absolutely great with it. It's possibly the best kind of weather to ever grace the planet Earth, in his humble opinion.

Of course, it's no winter. It's sweltering and makes people retire back into the cool confines of their homes within half an hour. It melts everything that is meltable, and makes everything hot and dry and uncomfortable and hot and sweaty and did he mention hot, in comparison with winter, bless its soul. During winter, everything is crystalline and covered with a thick blanket of frost and snow and unlike what people say about summer, it's actually fun.

Jack sighs, because this? This is not so fun.

He's currently lying on his back, balancing on an oddly curving limb of tree branch. The protruding bark digs at his spine through the thin fabric of his hoodie, yet he can't bring himself to move.

Because, dear MiM, is it hot.

He'd originally come up here because it was the coolest place on this god-forsaken island, ('cooler' meaning 99 instead of 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Has he mentioned how much he loves it here?), shaded with thick, waxy leaves that blocks some of the sun's fiery hatred. As he sadly learned earlier, the sand is scorching, and the ground below the tree offering little to no direct shelter. The branch itself was warm to the touch, too warm, in Jack's opinion, but hey, he'd rather jump out of a fire and into the frying pan.

Why, you ask, is he in this predicament?

Because he was an idiot and tried to make a one-way trip from the Pole to Antarctica, straight through the Caribbean. Now, usually, those he could handle. What he couldn't handle was suddenly falling out of the sky without warning, about as graceful as a chicken shoved from an airplane, him going one way and his staff going the other.

It isn't the first time Jack has been painfully reminded how grounded he is without his staff. However, this has to be one of his least favorite. Top three, definitely.

He throws one arm over his eyes, his skin slightly sticky with sweat. It was still an utter mystery how he'd been shot out of the sky; because that's the only way he could describe it. Blinding pain from his ribcage, followed by a cool numbness that spread from his sides into all of his limbs, fingers losing their grip and legs going pliant. Everything had gone blissfully black after that, but the next thing he knew, he was laying on a beach, positively boiling, with his staff nowhere in sight.

Fan-frickin'-tastic.

After about an hour, maybe two, he'd given up his half-hearted search to find some sort of relief. Besides, night was always better for scavenger hunts anyway.

Jack was, and still is, being extremely childish about the entire situation, but hey, as the one and only Spirit of goddamn Winter, he thinks he deserves some slack.

His right side is still throbbing in dull spurts, but as far as he can tell, there's no actual injury to be found. In fact, his entire body is aching because of his crash landing onto the beach, where the sand helpfully told that he had skidding several feet before stopping.

He hates sand. The Guardian of Dreams is going to get a full on lecture if Jack ever gets out of this.

When, he reminds himself strongly. When I get out of this.

This reminds him that he should probably get onto the whole self-rescue thing, because surely no one has noticed his absence yet, much less start a search, and the sky is starting to darken anyway.

Jack glares at the coconuts dangling above his head. They barely move as he peels himself off the branch and stretches out all the cramps in his neck and back. He hisses quietly as he hears something pop.

He moves slowly, shimmying down the tree trunk, careful to avoid all of the juts and spikes. Amazingly, he manages to land on his feet, but struggles through a wave of dizziness as he steps forward. He lurches violently to the side, only barely catching himself before he falls.

Night begins to descend as he regains his bearings, testing out his shaky legs until they remember how to walk. The constant chattering of bugs seems to magnify, about which Jack neither thinks nor cares about. After all, the heat is finally dying down, and suddenly it's cool again.

Hallelujah.

Jack is suddenly immensely grateful for how well he can see in the dark, because everything is clear and cold(ish) and he doesn't feel like he's going to spontaneously combust. All in all, it's been a pretty good five minutes.

Unfortunately, his luck ends right about then, because the soft ground does nothing to muffle the sharp crack coming from his left. Jack immediately tenses up, senses going on high alert as he suppresses a groan, because he so doesn't have time for this.

There's no sound for a few minutes, and a quick scan of his surroundings reveals no hidden figures in the dark. Probably just a mouse or a flightless bird or whatever the hell wanders random islands at night. Jack's getting paranoid.

Which is why he jumps about ten feet in the air when he hears a female voice all but screaming, "Howdy, pard'ner!"

Jack spins, finding himself almost nose-to-nose with a grinning woman. She looks to be around twenty, with dark hair curling over one shoulder, and a ring of flowers that loops loosely around her neck. She wears only a grass skirt and top that ends a few inches above her belly button. She has smile lines around her eyes, and her teeth flash white, but it's hard to tell the color of her irises, some sort of hazel, he thinks.

In short, this woman is very pretty.

Jack clears his throat, and then clears it again, because he's extremely dehydrated, mind you, and most definitely not because of nerves, "Hi," he squeaks in a manly way. "Pleased to, uh, see you."

She laughs, cupping his chin, "You're so cute, you know?" she drawls with a heavy southern accent, "It's a darn pleasure seein' you too."

This woman is a Spirit of some sort, obviously, and one who has absolutely no perception of personal space. Jack pulls away from her grip, subconsciously running his hand over the part of his jaw that she had touched. It was surprisingly cold, "Right… so... um… I'm Jack."

He may have been imagining it, but he swears her gaze darkens for a fraction of a second, but she snaps back to her bright demeanor so quickly he must have imagined it, "I'm Abere."

Jack knows that name from somewhere, he just can't place it, "I think I've heard of you."

Abere laughs again, high pitched and bell-like. She shakes her head, "Really, now? Wow, I don't usually get very many fans around these parts, ya know?"

He knows that name. He knows it. Instead, he gives an awkward smile, "Yep, it seems kinda lonely. Out here, I mean. On a deserted island."

Her brow furrows for a moment before she speaks, but this time, the drawling accent has disappeared, leaving something a smoother, "Right… Caribbean. I haven't seen very many people around since I moved. Aloha, Jack!"

"Aloha," Jack repeats, because he doesn't really know how to respond to that. He clears his throat again, because wherever the name Abere comes from, she seems friendly enough and seems to know the island, which is more than Jack could ever hope for.

"So," he begins, fidgeting slightly, "While I loved meeting you, I have to admit… I kinda crash landed onto your island. To which I apologize sincerely," he added hastily. "But the thing is, I can't leave until I find my staff… which I lost on the way down."

Abere raises an eyebrow, so Jack asks, "So I was wondering if you could, uh, help me find it. Since you, um, know this place, and all."

Abere inclines her head, "Well, of course, Anakale! Anything to help a friend," she rocks on her heels, hands behind her back, "So what's this staff look like?" She waggles her eyebrows.

Jack pauses, "Um… It's a bit taller than I am, I guess, and it's got this huge curve at one end, like a Shepard's crook," she gives him a blank stare at that, so he backtracks, "It's made of wood, and kinda darkish, and heavy, I suppose."

Her eyes light up in recognition, "Oh, that staff? I know that! Found it on the beach earlier; it's so pretty, honestly, I couldn't help taking it with me! It's back at my camp. I can take you!"

Jack blinked for a few moments before it registered what she had said. He grinned in relief, "That's great! Where's your camp?"

She shrugs, "Not too far from here. It's only a few minutes away." She turns to walk away, Jack following eagerly.

Jack lets out a small sigh. Finally. He's had more than enough of this place. When he gets out of here, he's going to just lie in a snow bed in Antarctica for-

He stops abruptly.

Abere.

Crap. Crap crap crap.

He has to get out of here. And fast. However, he can't do that without his staff, which Abere currently has.

He doesn't know what he did to piss off karma so badly, but he's pretty sure whatever it was, he does not deserve this mess.

Abere, who had been talking excitably the entire time, paused when she realized she had left a shaking Jack behind. She turned, "You alright, Anakale?"

Jack swallows thickly, forcing himself to clear his mind, look beyond whatever haze was blocking his sight.

And for a split second, Abere's appearance shifts, outfit changing into a shadowy cloak that drapes around her shoulders. Her necklace is replaced by a chain, holding a strange pendent right above her heart. Her skin is mottled gray, and her eyes, oh god, they're completely black, as if her pupils had expanded and filled up all the remaining space.

And then she's back to how she was, bright and smiling and Jack is pretty damn sure he's going to be sick.

"You okay?" she asks, worry coloring her voice, "You seem a bit put out, Anakale."

That's one way to put it. Jack shakes his head, "Nope. I'm fine. Completely fine. More than fine. Just a bit woozy, I guess." He forces a smile.

"Alright then. If you say so," she began walking again, leaving Jack to trail along behind her. "It's not much longer," she calls over her shoulder.

He was so screwed. "Okay," he calls ahead weakly. His bare feet squelch in the dampening ground, and he stops, "You live in a swamp? On an island?"

She laughs, "Weird, right? It was great to find, with the fresh water and all. It's been wonderful for my girls," she gestures to some plants, which Jack could not care less about, because he just needs to find his staff and go go go.

There! Praise MiM, his precious staff is only a few meters away, leaning against a tree. He wants to cry with relief.

"Well," he shrugs, faking a sigh of resignation as he scoots over to the tree, careful to keep his eyes on Abere. "There it is. It's been so great meeting you," total lie, "but I do have to get out of here," the most honest thing he's ever said.

Abere's eyes widen, "You're leaving? Already?"

Jack is so frickin' close, "Yeah, well, important stuff to do. Really important. The planet is depending on me."

"You can't leave yet," Abere says, gaze narrowed, "I don't want you to go."

"No, seriously," Jack says, "I have to do things. Big things. Things that are not here."

Abere all but flies toward him, pushing him into the marsh, and ignores him when he cries out indignantly. "You're not leaving, Anakale. I don't want you to," she growls, towering over him.

"Okay, okay, let's just be… rational here. How about… you give me my staff, and let me leave, alright? I'll send birthday and Christmas cards so you won't feel lonely anymore!"

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because the next thing he knows, Abere is glowing, and plants are wrapping around his wrists, ankles, and chest, securing him tightly against a solid wall of foliage.

"No, Anakale. That's not what's going to happen," she licks her lips, "is that you will stay right here, for the rest of eternity, everlasting."

"That's not in the myths," Jack mutters to himself.

Abere's eyes flash black, "Unless you continue to make stupid comments, upon which I will devour your very soul, and make you watch, and then I'll cook you up too, and make it nice and painful and let you see the spilling of your own intestines before I tear you apart!"

"Yep, okay, that's in the myths."

Abere snarls, fangs glinting, "I think I'll start with your heart."

She lets out a piercing screech and dives toward him, before freezing in place.

Icicles hang off her extended claws, frost keeping her twisted expression in place. She's glued to the ground, a new kind of ice that Jack himself has been working on. Totally un-meltable, thank you very much, even here.

It's easy to break out of his restraints, which break like glass in their frozen state. Jack brushes the shards off himself, running his hands through his hair, leaving it to stick up in all directions.

He smirks, "I'd say it was nice meeting you, Abere, but really… it wasn't."

His staff feels cold and familiar in his hands, and he briefly rests his forehead against it. He's suddenly hit by the overwhelming urge to get out of here as fast as he can, because with his luck, he's probably going to run into some other demon on his already prolonged stay on this island.

It's a relief to be up in the air again, and he loops high above the treetops, letting the Wind catch him.

It's only when he's about half a mile out from the island that he remembers something, and it's only because he's a smug bastard that he retreats back to yell it.

"Just so you know, I totally take back the thing about the cards!"


End file.
